


Leather

by actualvarric



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cullrian Mini-Bang, Cullrian Mini-Bang 2015, Leather, M/M, Modern AU, cullrian - Freeform, dorian is attractive and cullen is a nerd, so basically a generic cullrian fanfic, too many hipsters, what even is in a haberdashery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4821005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualvarric/pseuds/actualvarric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen sees a lot of people during the course of an average workday at Templar Haberdashers. Dorian, however, is someone entirely different from the usual crowd, and Cullen can't quite point out why.</p>
<p>Maybe it's because the man wears so much leather, a material which Cullen despises with all his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cullrian mini-bang (at fyeahcullrian on tumblr)!  
> A ton of fun to write and hopefully art is on the way!

Cullen heard the doorbell to the shop ring and sighed, rubbing his temples in distress. He hated this job. Everyone that shopped here were prigs, all of them. Hell, if he didn’t need the money so badly he’d quit in a second. He threw a glance to the doorway, half-hearted greeting for another stuck-up regular already on the tip of his tongue. His mouth stopped moving halfway through his tired welcome. This was not a regular.

It wasn’t unusual by any means for them to get new customers, but they were usually prim (or fashionably untidy) hipster-looking fellows with tight jeans and perfect teeth. _This_ customer looked far more exotic, sporting a sort of pompadour with the sides only halfway shaved down, moustache fitting his upper lip comfortably, as if it belonged. Cullen remembered when he had tried to grow a beard. It grew in darker than he would have liked, and he ended up settling for a light dusting of stubble. No, this customer knew how good he looked, judging by the smirk that was on his face as he turned his attention to Cullen. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” the new client asked, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he cocked his head slightly. Yes, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. Cullen cleared his throat and saw the man’s smile widen even further. Damn him.

“W-Welcome to Templar Haberdashers. We’re happy to have you with us today. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Cullen practically choked on his memorized lines, more now out of embarrassment than the man himself. His eyes widened as he watched the new client walk toward him- no, not walk, stalk, like a lion hunting an innocent gazelle.

“No, not really,” the man said lazily, leaning forward on the countertop and trailing a hand across it. He looked up to meet Cullen’s eyes, scanning Cullen’s body from underneath his eyelashes with a practiced grace while doing so. “I’m just here to look.”

Cullen swallowed deeply. “Well, just let me know if you need anything then!” He could feel himself reaching back to play with his hair subconsciously and decided to just let it happen rather than abort the motion halfway through. “Ah, and, by the way, my name’s Cullen,” he uttered, pointing to his name tag with the hand that wasn’t in his hair. “Y’know, if you need anything,” he hurriedly added.

The man smiled, and there was something a little bit dangerous in the look. “Dorian. And I’ll be sure to let you know what I need...” He let his sentence trail off as he turned away from the counter, hand following body leisurely. He continued the leisurely pace as he walked around the small shop, a sort of easiness and dreaminess seeping into every step. Cullen couldn’t help but watch him. He justified it by reasoning that the man, Dorian, was the only customer in the store, and should therefore command his full attention. But in the back of his mind, he knew that he had inventory to keep and papers to write up, and that it was nothing more than an excuse.

But honestly, no one could reasonably expect him to _not_ look at him, right? The man was wearing a vivid, royal blue scarf, tied neatly around his neck in a way Cullen knew he could never replicate, in addition to a (surely designer) coat and neatly pressed dress pants. Frankly, he was hard to look away from. Cullen just hoped he didn’t notice his staring (although he was trying to be a little bit discreet.)

It seemed like hours when the man finally met his eyes again, traipsing toward the counter and holding something behind his back. Cullen raised an eyebrow at him and Dorian fluidly swept a shoebox onto the counter. Cullen didn’t know how he had held it with one hand. He just raised his eyebrow further, pretending that he was less impressed than he really was.

“Will that be all for you today?” he asked, grabbing the box roughly and scanning the barcode. He was trying to regain _some_ semblance of professionalism, after all.

“Well, I’d certainly like something more, but I suppose this is all that is prudent at the moment,” the customer replied, the corners of his mouth twitching up briefly. Cullen could’ve sworn the man had thrown a wink at him as he was bagging the box.

After Cullen had handed the man his bag, hands noticeably _not_ touching, he was left watching the man leave, flowing coattail and vibrant scarf trailing behind him, and wondering what the man could possibly wear with those expensive Antivan leather shoes.

\--

It was another slow, ordinary day when Cullen saw the eccentric customer again. The jingle of the opening bell rang, and he felt a jolt of something in his heart as he recognized the familiar face. This time, the other man was wearing a charcoal blazer, matching pants, and a black dress shirt with the top few buttons tastefully undone. And, of course, those black leather shoes. Cullen had never been a fan of leather, having never been able to pull it off well himself. On others, he usually thought it looked like they were trying too hard, in some way or another. In this case, black leather shoes meant someone was trying to look more important than they actually were. _That certainly applied to Dorian here_ , he thought to himself, chuckling as Dorian glanced down at his polished silver watch to prove his point. Unfortunately, that chuckle got him a stern look from the customer.

“What, are we that casual already? Not that I’m complaining, but it’s usually nice to greet someone when they enter your store, wouldn’t you think?” the man said, gesturing absently with his right hand.

“Yes, very sorry, I thought we were on terms where we could just scoff at each other in greeting, but it appears I was wrong,” Cullen replied, mocking himself. The other man smiled at his joke. “Welcome to Templar Haberdashers.”

“Now that’s more like it,” Dorian answered definitively, confidently striding around the small space of the shop to look at the new stock. A few moments passed by in silence as the man browsed, but Cullen couldn’t let him go that easily. He needed to talk to this man, learn more about him. After all, Dorian _had_ played the leading role in many of their conversations thus far, and it was Cullen’s turn. 

“So, what do you do?” Cullen asked, and the man looked over startled at him, surprised that Cullen took the initiative to talk to him.

“I _do_ many things, but I’m a lawyer by profession,” he replied smoothly, and Cullen could practically _hear_ his sly smile. 

“That’s crazy! You’re so young!” Cullen found himself saying as a follow-up. He didn’t know where he was going with the statement, but he knew he wanted to keep the conversation going.

“Hardly. I’m 32. That’s plenty of time to complete a law degree, if you think about it,” the man answered, sighing and returning to a shelf he had stopped at previously.

“Really? You look way younger!” Cullen exclaimed, and he was ready to punch himself in the face. He was not used to talking with higher-class citizens, much less lawyers. Dorian didn’t reply, but threw a look his way, and Cullen was positive he saw a smile on his features.

Dorian only ended up buying a single, stainless steel wallet chain that day, and Cullen was left watching those Antivan leather-clad shoes slide effortlessly out the door. This was the start of something, something exciting, and it was made even more enthralling with the fact that Cullen didn’t know what it was.

\--

Dorian’s next visit to the shop was nothing like the previous two- for one, he arrived during rush hour when there were five other customers in the store (and one extra employee), and two, his clothes were more disheveled than Cullen had come to expect. The man had made quite the entrance, in fact, pushing his way through the front door violently, almost crashing into a departing customer and sending the bell chiming sharply. Cullen felt his jaw drop open at his appearance; the man was wearing a grease-stained white t-shirt and ripped jeans, dirty sneakers instead of elegant leather today. Dorian’s eyes frantically darted through the store, meeting the eyes of each other customer and the other employee (a nice girl named Josephine) before finally landing on Cullen. He ran forward and slammed his hands (clad in leather gloves; leather gloves meant someone was trying to look cool) on the counter, and leaned forward into Cullen’s personal space.

“Let me hide under the counter,” he gasped out, panting from exertion. Cullen had so many questions to ask, but cut them all off as he looked Dorian in the eyes. They were wide with panic, tears threatening to spill over the sides, quickly looking back to the entry door every half-second. Cullen felt his mouth open and something resembling an affirmation came out. He felt a hand on his shoulder for less than a second, like a ghost, and then Dorian was practically falling under the counter and curling up into a tight ball, knees pressed against his chest. Cullen was about to speak when a tall, regal-looking man walked in through the door, back held tightly and jaw set. He approached the counter with calm purpose, hands gripped together behind him. 

“Greetings. My name is Halward Pavus, you may have heard of me. I’m here looking for my son, Dorian. I have reason to believe he entered this store a few moments ago,” the man clearly enunciated, every word spoken as if it were rehearsed.

“W-What? No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir. I haven’t heard of anyone by that name before,” Cullen answered him, trying not to choke on his words. On one hand, this man was Dorian’s _father_ , but on the other, Dorian looked genuinely frightened when he ran through the door. 

“I have evidence to the contrary, Mr... Cullen,” the man said, pointedly taking far too long to read Cullen’s nametag. He pointed to the grease stains on the countertop and raised a perfectly-groomed eyebrow. Cullen swallowed. 

“Now, are you going to be honest with me, Mr. Cullen?” Dorian’s father asked, and Cullen noticed the indiscreet sliding of his hand across the counter. When it pulled away, what had to be 10,000 sovereigns were left where it had been. Cullen felt his knees grow weak. That was a _lot_ of money. He could start paying off his student loans with that. But for what cost? He remembered Dorian’s panicked face, his disheveled hair and unruly clothes. He pushed the money away from him and back toward Halward.

“I’m sorry, but I told you, I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Cullen lied, staring Halward in the eyes, mouth set in a straight line. 

“I see,” Halward replied, voice tinged with a detached anger that made Cullen’s hair stand on end. “Well, if you change your mind, make sure to keep in touch,” he added, sliding a business card across the table this time and re-pocketing the money. He pivoted on his heel and walked with the same calm strides back out the door he came through.

A minute or two after the doorbell rang on Halward’s departure, Dorian climbed weakly to his feet and turned to face Cullen, wiping sweat off his brow. 

“Thank you for that,” Dorian said earnestly. “I know many a man that would have accepted the money that he undoubtedly offered. For you to refuse was surprisingly... decent of you. Say, how much was it this time? 100? 1000?”

“It looked like 10,000 actually but Dorian-”

“10,000 sovereigns! Wow, he really is sparing no expense. Touching, really,” Dorian muttered, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “Now you must be looking for an explanation. Short story is that daddy wanted me to be a fancy politician like he is, but sadly, I turned out gay, which of course we absolutely _cannot_ have, can we? So he tried to change that through various horrific means until I finally moved out at high school and cut all ties after college. Now he’s scouring every nook and cranny for me for some godforsaken reason, and I’m determined to never contact him again. Questions?”

Cullen’s head was whirling with questions after that doozy, but he settled for the simplest thing he could latch onto. “You’re gay?” 

Dorian scoffed and looked at the ceiling in exasperation. “Of _course_ that’s what you pick up after all that. Yes. I’m gay. I’m sure you know what that means, right? Or has all this flirting been in vain? It’s all right, you can be honest, I’ve had a bad enough day as is, why not make it worse, right?”

“N-No! It hasn’t been for nothing. The flirting, I mean. I was flirting with you too,” Cullen stammered out. “I’m bi, actually,” he added, rubbing the back of his head like he always did when he was embarrassed. 

Dorian’s face lit up. “Well then. I suppose this day could have gone worse.” He met Cullen’s eyes, and he looked genuinely happy for the first time since Cullen had met him. “Do you have a pen, by any chance?” Cullen nodded frantically and dug around in the drawers for some kind of writing utensil, before he finally stumbled on an ordinary ballpoint. He held it out triumphantly. Dorian grabbed it with his gloved hand and pulled his father’s index card toward him with the other. He scribbled out his father’s business phone number and wrote his in instead. He signed his name and added a heart at the end before pushing it back toward Cullen. 

“You should give me a call sometime,” he said, tugging at his gloves to adjust them. He lifted his eyes and looked at Cullen. “Maybe we could set something up.” And there was that familiar sly smile again.

“Yeah, definitely!” Cullen said too exuberantly to be cool, grabbing the card eagerly and putting it in the front pocket of his skinny jeans. Dorian’s smile grew brighter. 

“Well, then, I’ll be looking forward to it,” Dorian replied, turning around and walking with his signature lightness out the door, bell ringing softly. Cullen could see the light glance off his new wallet chain as he left. He really did look cool in those leather gloves.

Looking around the store after Dorian’s departure, he saw one customer rolling their eyes, two smiling, and two talking to each other quietly (probably about the debacle.) He heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a screech from beside him, and turned only to be bear-hugged by Josephine.   
“How do you know him?” she screamed. “He’s so hot! And you’re going on a date with him! And his dad is Senator Pavus?! That’s so crazy! Cullen! You _have_ to tell me everything!”

“Alright, Josie, I will,” Cullen answered, trying to sound exasperated but failing. This was going to be a long explanation, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to be angry.

Cullen kept his word and kept in touch, texting Dorian as soon as his shift was over. He knew that one was technically supposed to wait a day or two, but he just couldn’t. He was too excited, and he hadn’t been on a date in years. He ended up setting up a mall date with Dorian the following Saturday, only two days away, the other man just as eager as he was. The next two days at work went by painstakingly slowly, as Dorian didn’t once drop by to say hello or sneakily flirt. By the time Saturday’s shift was over, Cullen was more than ready to see the man again. 

\--

Cullen tugged at his rolled-up sleeves nervously in the store, wondering if his denim shirt and dark pants would be appropriate. He had seen what kind of clothes Dorian owned, and he would hate for the man to show up in a full three-piece suit while he looked like he was just going grocery shopping. Well, he figured he just had to hope for the best, as Dorian was meeting him at the store and he didn’t have enough time to run back home and grab an extra set to change into. He regretted not setting his alarm for earlier this morning, the rush making him forget them in the hustle of getting ready to face the day. 

He felt his phone vibrate in his hand and immediately brought his hand up to check it. 

_dorian pavus: I’ll arrive in five minute’s time._

Cullen felt the rate of his sweating speed up. Five minutes until the moment of truth. He jogged to the bathroom to check his reflection and make sure he looked ok, and ran his hands over the stubble on his cheeks, wondering in vain if he should have shaved. After several minutes debating on whether or not he should apply more deoderant or cologne, he heard footsteps outside the store and he ran out to meet them. The bell chimed as Dorian walked through the door.

“Good evening, Cullen. You look... lovely.” Dorian had taken the time to scan Cullen’s outfit, and Cullen felt his cheeks heat up as the man gave him an appreciative smile. A good choice, then. Nothing to worry about after all. He then took a hard look at Dorian’s choice of attire and almost choked. The other man was wearing a black, leather jacket that had to be too small for him by the way it was fitting snugly on his arms and waist. That was most definitely _not_ a bad thing. Usually leather jackets were for people trying to look edgy and failing, but Dorian made his look stylish. Under the jacket was a white, collared shirt, and Cullen was ashamed to admit that he was disappointed it was fully buttoned. The man’s tight, dark jeans and vibrantly teal Vans tied the whole look together. 

“You too!” Cullen replied with too much enthusiasm. He reached behind his head and grabbed frantically at his hair. “So, um, are you ready to head out?” At Dorian’s affirmative nod, he grabbed the keys to the shop, left, and locked the door behind him, hearing the chiming of the bell for the last time that day. He looked out to see Dorian waiting for him a few meters away. He lightly jogged to him and said, “Lead the way!”

Dorian lead him to what had to be the most expensive motorcycle in the world. It seemed so out of place in this ordinary parking lot, parked next to Hondas and Jeeps. Cullen was afraid to touch it, but when Dorian gracefully hopped up, threw a helmet on, and proffered the other one to Cullen, he figured he didn’t really have much of a choice. He took the helmet and put it on, carefully adjusting it on his head before even more carefully sliding onto the motorcycle behind Dorian. He pressed his body flat against Dorian’s back, and had to keep from making a small noise at the contact. He wrapped his arms around Dorian’s torso, grabbing at the opposite sides of the man’s jacket to ensure the most stability. He rested his head tentatively on the man’s shoulder, helmet touching helmet when he met no resistance. They stayed like that, curled up on the motorcycle until Dorian let out a small cough and asked him if he was quite ready to go. Cullen nodded yes, not trusting himself to speak, and felt himself being hurled backward back by the force as Dorian stepped on the gas. 

Throughout the ride, Cullen felt like he was falling in a dream, falling and falling and falling but never quite hitting the ground. The lack of stability scared him immensely (especially when they reached the highway), and he was eternally grateful for the tether that was Dorian’s body, clutching it as tightly as he could. Luckily, the mall was only about 15 minutes away, so he didn’t have to endure the torture very long before his feet hit solid ground once again. As Dorian dismounted and removed his helmet, Cullen fell to his knees on the ground and assumed a praying position.

“Oh, come on,” Dorian scoffed at him and rolled his eyes. “The ride couldn’t’ve been _that_ bad.”

“I beg to differ,” Cullen replied, although he was aware of the smile on his face while he said it. Dorian just crooked a finger, indicating that Cullen should join him, and started walking to the mall from their parking spot. Cullen scrambled to get up and stumbled over to Dorian, who was now quite a bit farther away. 

As they entered the mall, Cullen rubbed his hands together, asking Dorian, “So... what do you want to do first?”

“Well, I was thinking the movies, but it appears that only utter filth is on display this evening,” Dorian answered, rolling his eyes for the second time in five minutes. Cullen walked over to the ticket booth and scanned the titles. 

“Oh! _Bloody Dawn 2: Aliens with Guns_! I wanted to see that!” He turned to Dorian, pointedly ignoring the fact that this movie fell into the category ‘utter filth’. Dorian gave him a positively offended look.

“Really, Cullen? I’m afraid this courtship isn’t going to work out, I should just drop you off at your house right now. If anything, I would suggest that crime noir thriller, what is it... ah! _Hard in Hightown_. By that rising Tethras fellow.” It was Cullen’s turn to look indignant.

“Come on! Can you say ‘snorefest’? Isn’t that movie like, 3 hours long? Why don’t we just see something we’ll both hate, like, uh... Swords and Sandals?” Cullen looked at Dorian and raised an eyebrow inquisitively. He looked surprisingly serious about the proposal.

“Certainly we could bond over our inevitable mutual hatred, I suppose,” Dorian sighed, approaching the vendor and putting 20 silvers on the counter, tired of the discussion and ready for action. When they had the tickets in their pockets and were walking past the young man clipping them, Cullen asked Dorian if he wanted anything, snack-wise.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t think my stomach could handle the food here,” Dorian scolded. He ended up buying a Vitaminwater, and Cullen unabashedly purchased a medium popcorn and an Icee for himself. Dorian looked disgusted. 

Luckily, they had the same preferences in terms of seating, sitting toward the back-middle of the theatre. The previews flew by and before they knew it, they were watching the cheesiest romance movie ever, only distinguishing itself from the rest of its kind by the presence of a _strong_ female character as its main. In fact, they were pleasantly surprised to see that her more feminine sides didn’t cancel out her brutality in the slightest, and that all the parts together made her a beautiful character. That didn’t help the fact that otherwise, it was truly a trainwreck of a movie. 

Cullen was a little distracted from the movie by the way that Dorian had casually wrapped an arm around his shoulders halfway through, but he wasn’t at _all_ bothered by it. The climax of the movie was surprisingly touching, and if either man sniffled a little bit, neither of them mentioned it. Neither did Cullen mention the fact that he was certain half of his popcorn (and a few sips of his Icee) had been swallowed by Dorian. Coming out of the movie, Cullen was disappointed by the lack of Dorian’s arms around him, but he was happy they could move onto other things to do together.

Discarding his empty water bottle, Dorian snidely asked, “So, as bad as we expected?”

Cullen blushed and replied, “No, actually... I didn’t think it was half bad, to be honest.”

Dorian smiled at him. “I’m glad you agree, then.” Cullen was a little surprised that the man hadn’t gone for a cool front on that one (given all the leather he was interested in), but he was glad he was being honest with him. 

The rest of their mall visit consisted of window-shopping and looking through various shops. Cullen was not at all surprised that Dorian wanted to stop into Urban Outfitters, what with their ridiculous prices, and Dorian was equally unsurpised when Cullen pulled him back to a shop that sold hundreds of different baseball caps. Finally they found a mutual interest in the pet store, and Cullen ogled the puppies while Dorian positively cooed over a litter of kittens. 

Dorian looked radiant when he learned they had a 24-hour petting room that two cats lived in. He immediatly squirted hand sanitizer in his hands and dashed in the door, taking a seat in one of the chairs. Both cats ran over to him, and Cullen could hear the man _giggling_ as he tried to divvy up his attention between them. It was the cutest thing Cullen had ever seen in his life. He wanted to take a picture, but at the same time, it felt wrong to capture the moment. Instead, he tried to think about how all that cat hair was going to get over those expensive jeans until Dorian came back out, beaming. 

Their last stop was the food court before heading back, and Dorian only mildly sneered at their options. Dorian lined up at a decadent sandwich place, a little fancier than the rest of the options, and Cullen joined him, a greasy cheeseburger not worth leaving the man’s company. Dorian ordered a full pesto chicken sandwich, and Cullen settled for a side of mac and cheese, not wanting to fill up with the inevitable motorcycle ride home on his horizon. They sat outside, where it was quieter and nicer out, and settled into an easy conversation about romance films and baby animals. Cullen finished his ‘meal’ in less than a minute, but he didn’t want to get up and throw the container away for fear of losing their conversation and Dorian’s genuine smile. 

Before he knew it they were back up on the motorcycle, Cullen having given Dorian his address and all their food having been eaten. He gave himself free reign to fully cuddle into Dorian now, unafraid of falling off the motorcycle (or, at least, less so). He felt like he was falling asleep in a good way this time, dreaming instead of falling in a nightmare, pressed into Dorian’s back. He heard the motorcycle’s engine get quieter and realized it had come to a halt. He blearily looked up. They were outside his apartment building. Cullen reluctantly slid off the side and handed his helmet back to Dorian. Culled nervously touched his hair again, unsure of what to say in parting. 

“I had an unexpectedly good time this evening,” Dorian stated.

“Um... thanks?” Cullen replied shakily. ‘Unexpectedly’?

“Kaffas, that came out wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed our time together, how’s that?” Dorian amended, rubbing his eyes in embarrassment.

“Much better,” Cullen laughed.

“Good. I have to say, you’re like no man I’ve ever gone out with before, and that’s becoming an alarmingly good thing. You’re incredibly genuine and honest, and those qualities are hard to find these days,” Dorian said, voice growing softer as he spoke. Maker, he was beautiful. Cullen didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just took the lapels of Dorian’s leather jacket in hand and kissed him. He felt Dorian’s lips part in surprise, and at first he thought he’d made a terrible mistake, but he soon felt Dorian’s mouth press back insistently against his and was reassured. They kissed like that, giving and taking, for an interminable amount of time until Cullen pulled away panting. 

“I had a great time, too, Dorian, and I’d really like to see you again. You’re brilliant,” Cullen gasped. 

“I know,” Dorian slyly answered, but Cullen could see his blush before he was kissed again.

“I’ll definitely call you soon, ok?” Cullen added after they had pulled back again.

“I’m planning on it,” Dorian said, winking at him and starting the gas of his motorcycle. Cullen was left with only a cloud of acrid smoke and the phantom taste of pesto on his lips.

\--

They kept in touch almost every day after that, going on dates regularly. Dorian would even drop by the shop when he was in the neighborhood, and they would steal kisses on Cullen’s lunch break. Life was certainly better than it had been for either of them. 

Cullen heard the familiar bell chime in the middle of the day on a sweltering Tuesday. He looked up, half hoping it was Dorian, and was delighted when his expectations were fulfilled. However, the man continued to surprise him. Today he was wearing a black tank top that showed off a tattoo he didn’t know the man had, and were those... they were, weren’t they... leather pants, tightly clinging to the man’s legs and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Cullen felt himself drooling, and the heel on those combat boots didn’t help in the slightest. He heard a wolf whistle from one of his customers. He ignored it and tried to compose himself while Dorian shot finger guns at the appreciative customer. Dorian turned to Cullen.

“Why hello, darling,” he said, voice husky.

“Um, hi Dori,” Cullen stuttered, trying to use his words.

“I’m not too late for your lunch break, am I?” he inquired, tilting his head just so that Cullen could see the small mark he himself had left there previously. Such an innocent gesture turned so wicked. This man was exceedingly good at doing that, he had learned.

“I can take another one,” Cullen answered quickly. He was not passing this up, whatever this was.

“Good.” Dorian replied resolutely, turning around and _swaying_ out the door, the sharp chime of the bell shocking Cullen back to reality. He quickly grabbed his timecard and stamped out for the day, pay loss be damned. He rushed for the door, adjusting his bowtie and glasses as he went in an effort to look as good as his boyfriend. He knew it was impossible. 

Why did he hate leather in the first place? He couldn’t remember. All he knew now was that it had been nothing but kind to him.


End file.
